Authors Note: Hey. Yeah, I don't own Newsies I know. God, you don't need to rub it into my face. Anyways…obviously this is a Spot fic. No surprise there anyway. I hope you like it anyway and I appreciate constructive criticism. I'll try to keep writing on a regular basis.

Only One: a Spot story

Have you ever had the fortune of seeing someone for the first time and in doing so the present and the future seem to fuse and you just know that that person, that stranger is going to change you life forever? Can't say that I have. Well I sort of had. I didn't really see her. I only saw into her soul. And that's enough.

It all started one day as I was selling my papes down by the docks as I had for as long as I could remember. Only this day was different for some reason. At first I couldn't put my finger on it. I am after all just your typical non-observant teenage boy. Then I saw. On the side of the street right by the rail was the most beautiful painting I had ever seen. Beautifully painted on the cheap ply easel was just a painting of the bay at sunset but I saw much than that.

I saw the anguish put in it that could only be understood by someone who had gone to bed hungry before. I saw the prospect of hoping for better days. I saw the sorrow of someone who felt alone. Now, I know what you're thinking. Who ever knew that Spot Conlon had such an artistic and tortured soul? Well, let me tell you. There is a lot more to people than they let on. But don't go getting any ideas. Sensitivity or not I am still the toughest and most feared Newsie in Brooklyn. So there.

Anyways, my eyes scanned the painting taking in all of the views and feelings that I myself had experienced day after day. I felt that I truly knew the artist. I almost felt as if I was the artist. In the lower left hand corner I saw the name. Sprawled out in neat but rushed cursive Madeline Bray.

That day, I knew that this stranger, this Madeline Bray was to play a part in my life. I was to make it my goal to find her and tell her that I understood everything that she said in her painting. Now I know what you are thinking again. You're thinking I'm crazy. This Madeline girl could be like 80 years old. You're thinking that I am starting to get notions of love about this mysterious artist. And maybe I am but that doesn't mean anything. The feelings in this painting are too similar to my on to have come from an 80 year old woman. Besides even if they are, it's not like I am a stranger to disappointment.

How do I even know what the artist was trying to say in this painting? Well, I just do. Okay? The next thing I did I am not particularly proud of. I dropped my remaining papes, grabbed the painting and ran back to the lodge house. It's not like it was doing anyone any good just sitting there. Okay, maybe it was but I needed it more okay. They can have old papes for it instead.

Thankfully no one was around when I got to the lodge house so I was able to sneak the thing up to my room. I hung the painting across my bed on the wall. That way each night I'd be able to fall asleep and wake up to the sunset and the name of sweet Madeline. Whoever she was.

Authors Note: Hope that wasn't such a waste of time. Don't worry Spot won't become too stalkerish. And if you want to know if Madeline is really an 80 year old woman or not you will have to keep reading. xD